Abyss
by Wolfress
Summary: Draco Malfoy, abused and ensued, is found by Harry one night in the Astronomy Tower, crying himself hoarse and on the verge of mental breakdown. Can Harry offer what he needs to repair his damaged soul? ]Slash[ ]HP/DM[ ]Please R & R!![
1. Chapter One

**..A..B..Y..S..S..**

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**[--Chapter One--]**

//_Bloody idiot charts! What did Aprias give up this much homework for?//_ thought 17-year-old Harry Potter angrily as he tried his best to complete his astronomy homework through his frustration. It was only the first week back, and already that amount of homework!!

Sudden, hurried footsteps from outside made Harry stop in the middle of his ranting. He froze; what if it's one of the prefects, or worse, teachers? He grabbed his parchment and quill, stuffed them into his robes, threw the Invisibility Cloak over his head, and had only enough time to dart behind a curtain when the door to the room was pushed open.

But it wasn't any teacher or prefect. It was Draco Malfoy.

Harry watched as Draco peered around through the crack of the slightly opened door, obviously trying to see if there are anybody else inside. None, apparently. He slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. Taking out his wand, he murmured, "_Mulitos._"

Mind spinning, Harry stared. //_Why is he suddenly making himself mute?_// he pondered. Shaking his head in bewilderment, he continued to stare at the Slytherin from behind the satin folds.

Draco gently placed his wand on the desk, a simple action, yet so filled with grace and beauty that Harry was stunned. Malfoy... beauty? It was something he'd never expect to see, nevertheless, think. But there was something about the Draco Malfoy of this hour that made him catch his breath and continue his gazing.

Draco lifted his head slightly, so the moon was shining on him, a pale glow enveloping his fragile cascade. His eyes, normally so cold and leering, were now filled with unshed tears. He stare up at the offending moon, delicate hand curving itself into a tight ball. The knuckles went whiter and whiter, paler than possible.

And then, suddenly, he collapsed.

On the floor.

And that's when the sobs began.

His body hunched over the floor, slender arms supporting himself, Draco sobbed. Wrecking sobs that produced no sound sent cruel shudders throughout his body. His lips were a faint purple, tinted with crimson blood, spilling from where Draco had bitten too hard. Silver hair disheveled, robes tousled and unkempt, face tear-stained and full of pain, Draco resembled nothing of the Slytherin Ice Prince whom Harry had grown so familiar with.

The Gryffindor could only gape at the sight before him. Draco Malfoy crying? Was this even possible? Where was the strong, independent enemy of his? What could have happened to have brought this kind of pain to his arch-enemy?

Draco crawled towards the windows, mouth opened in a silent scream, watery crystals spilling from his silvery orbs. He slammed himself against them, only to fall back, hard, onto the cold stone floor. His pale, trembling hands clawed hopelessly at the glassy surface, as if trying to escape, to run away from the terror that had tormented him into such a state. Mute voice screamed soundless words into the air, acting as if something was clutching at him, not letting him escape.

Soon, after a long time of such antics, he gave up his struggle, and slumped against a wall, sobs still wrecking his faltering body. Miserable face and posture betrayed his real self, his true soul to Harry, whom all this time could do nothing but to watch - to watch this strained, sad, and tortured beauty, like a stunning nightingale trapped in its cage, unable to get out, fluttering wildly and hurting itself in its desperate hope for freedom. 

What Harry had been seeing all these years were simply a mask - a cold and heartless mask which falls away completely during the night, revealing the beautiful nightingale that cries its heart out to heaven. Something touched his heart right then and there, and he fell in love with the tortured soul of the caged nightingale.

*****

Harry woke up the next morning in his bed, last night's events played over and over in his mind. He had slipped back to Gryffindor Tower when he had made sure Draco was fast asleep, tip-toeing, sneaking past the slumbering boy.

What exactly had happened? What had made Draco act this way? It's totally wrong - desperately different - from the boy who always stood up to him. There was something wrong. Desperately wrong. And he was determined to help Draco, no matter the cost.

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Hey peeps! Review please! Or no new chapter! There's going to be a sequel to this, I promise.

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	2. Chapter Two

**..A..B..Y..S..S..**

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**[--Chapter Two--]**

Ever since that night, Harry slipped to the Astronomy Tower with his Invisibility Cloak every single night, watching as Draco muted himself, then cried himself hoarse, screaming mutely at the still air. He fell more and more deeply in love with the boy, his heart saddening as he looked at the beautiful, yet anguish face. In the day, Draco always acted as if those nights had never occurred, and continues to be the arrogant prat he always was, or always _seems_ to be, yet to Harry, somehow Draco's eyes and words seemed to lack substance. There was nothing but emptiness at the very bottom of those eyes, coated with steel grey when his mask is on, but sparkling with silver when the mask slips off. However, as time passed, his scathing remarks ceased, and he withdrew more and more into himself, barely speaking with anyone. Harry had been extremely worried, though Hermione and Ron simply said that Malfoy was losing it finally and it was just a thing to be expected of a Malfoy.

Harry never told anyone about these nights. They were his, and his alone. He liked to think that it was reserved for his eyes alone, the sight of Draco when he was in his most beautiful form. He savoured these nights' memories, replaying them over and over in his head whenever boredom seeps into his brain. He only hoped that one day, instead of hiding, he'll be right there with him, with Draco, wrapping his arms around the weak, fragile and beautiful body, wrapping his arms around him and comforting him, Draco, his beautiful nightingale.

*****

Harry watched as, once again, Draco slipped into the Astronomy Tower. Harry himself was concealed in the same place as the previous night. Draco, this time, however, didn't even bother to mute himself, for as soon as the door closed behind him, he fell to the floor, surpressed sobs wrecking his body. It was the first time Draco curled up, and spoke. And instead of hearing the harsh tones of Malfoy's voice, he heard a malancholy, remorseful yet bittersweet voice. A voice that sent strange chills down Harry's spine. It was soft, yet heart-breaking.

"Why? Why do I have to have this life?"

Harry strained his ears to hear more.

"Why must I follow my father's footsteps? Why can't I have a life of my own? Why must I go through this every night?"

//_Go through what every night?_// Harry wanted to ask, but kept silent as Draco continued. "Why can't someone see me for who I really am? Why do I have to be a Malfoy? Why does no one notice me? Why does care me? _Why does no one love me??_"

Harry's heart wrenched at those last words. They sounded so broken, so lost, so... hopeless. Like his life was nothing but a doomed, written project, where no hope for happiness ever survived.

"_Why, why, why WHY!!_" screamed Draco, "Why does this all has to happen to_ me? Why ME???"_

He broke down, his sobs more painful than Harry had ever heard. Suddenly, Harry could hear the faint sound of footsteps, growing louder and louder. He started to panic. If Draco were caught, he would lose his only time and place for emotional release. And that wouldn't be good.

Draco seemed to hear it too. His eyes were wide with fear, fear of being caught, fear of being seen in his time of greatest weakness. His eyes darted around, but his body seemed to be frozen, unable to move. The footsteps were getting near, and without thinking, Harry darted out from his hiding place, and hauled Draco up into his arms, carrying him effortlessly and dashing back to the hiding place, pulling the curtains closed a split-second before the door opened, and Filch poked his head in.

The Hogwarts caretaker squinted around, his eyes searching for any sign of those who should not be out. When there was no one in sight, he scowled. "Funny," both boys heard him mutter as he went out again, "I thought I heard someone screaming in there for a minute. Must have been Peeves..." And with a final bang, the door closed, and the two boys were alone again.

Draco had gasped when he felt someone grab him, even more so when he was hoisted up and into a foreign pair of arms. He was still small for his age, weak, pale, and delicate. He wanted to struggle, to get away, but something told him to stay put. He did, only to realize that he had been saved by the mysterious person from probably a month's detention with Filch.

When Filch had gone, Draco jumped down hastily from the other's arms, and spun around to look at his intruder, or, well, his "savior".

"_Potter_?" he gasped, shock etched on his face.

Harry couldn't think of anything constructive to say. After blinking blindly for a few seconds, he simple acknowledged, "Malfoy."

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Draco spluttered.

"Er." What could he say? But before he could continue, Draco interrupted with an urgent, "_How long_ have you been here?"

Slamming his eyes shut, the Golden Boy replied, "Every single night since a week into this term."

The meaning of Harry's words registered into Draco's mind. Instead of yelling himself hoarse at his enemy, he gave a sigh of defeat. He didn't want to fight anymore. He didn't want to hold up the ever demanding image of the perfect Malfoy heir. A single, solitude tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and he wiped it away with one hasty hand as he whispered, "All right then. Tell everyone what you hear. I don't care."

Harry observed the defeated youth in front of him before replying cautiously, "Why would I want to do that?"

"Why wouldn't you want to do that?" Draco stared at him from below long lashes, his head bowed. "I've all but killed you with my insults all these years past. I suppose you would want revenge. Don't you?"

Silent, Harry shook his head. "I'm not like that." When the blonde did not respond, Harry blurted out, "What - why did you have all these emotional spells? What happened?"

He immediately bit his tongue in regret as soon as the words left his tongue. The other's face had paled swiftly, his body resuming the trembling. "It's okay if you don't want to tell," he rebutted quickly, hoping he hadn't upset the Slytherin too much to start him on his sobs again. "I just thought if you told, you'd feel- "

"It's okay."

Harry looked up, startled. "It's okay," Draco repeated. "I've been wanting to tell someone. Anyone. Anyone who cared to listen. Never struck me it'd be my arch-enemy though." He managed a small laugh, but it was a strained one, nonetheless.

"Oh. Alright then." Harry still felt slightly uncertain. "Go on."

Draco sighed, and moved towards a chair. Sitting down, he began his story.

"Ever since I was born, I've never knew what love is. I didn't even know that such a word existed - it was only when I heard other kids talking to their friends about it that I learnt about it. Mother never cared for me, Father, well, you can expect, didn't either. Mother married Father just for his money and surname, Father married Mother just for the sake of continuing the Malfoy line, and also because her family was a very much respected on in the Death Eater's circle. I was taught hatred and brutality right from the start. Every wrong thing, however small, would result in having the Cruciatus Curse cast on me. The time would depend on Father's mood - if he were in a good mood, he would let me off, in an hour or two. If he was in a bad mood, he would let me in on the curse for the whole day. I've once been thrown down into the dungeon for a whole week with the Crucio curse cast on me, without food, light, or water, just because I accidentally let slip a small retort to father's unfair punishments."

Draco laughed bitterly at this horrid memory, before he continued.

"When I was five, he started with this sick kind of training. For an amount of time each day, increasing as I grew older, I would have training. That is, having all sorts of horrible curses cast onto me. I would get fifty whippings if I made any noise, thirty if I showed any pain. At first, I'd whimper and cry so much that I'd get more than five hundred lashings within an hour, but as time passed, I became more and more resistant. I never so much as flinch when he lashed me with his curses. I was beginning to get proud of myself for achieving such, and that's when father decided to break me of my dignity and pride.

"It was the day before school started this term. I was packing in my room when my father grabbed me and pulled me into the drawing room. A few Death Eaters were there, eyeing me with a gleam in their eyes that I didn't trust. Father flung me on the floor, and cast Imperio on me. And - and - they made me -"

"Made you what?" prompted Harry gently.

"They - they made me strip in front of them, standing on the sofa, so that all could see me clearly. I was helpless against the Imperio, I tried to fight it, but apparently Father had put something into my drink during dinner, and I lost all resistance to the three Unforgivable curses. When I was naked, they made me stand in the middle. They made me kneel down to caress their privates, for their own sick pleasure. Then they made me dress again, then they - those sick perverts, they made me stand in the middle of their circle, and they started playing poker. Each time someone won the round, they get to remove a piece of clothing from me first-handedly. It was horrible, the way they ripped off my clothes, their eyes so full of lust and insanity. Then in the end.. in the end..."

Draco trailed off, his eyes glazing over. Harry stood, shocked, staring at him, his mind trying to understand all that Draco had told me so far. "What?" he managed to croak out.

"They raped me. All nine of them. One by one. I had to put on my clothes again after each one of them finishes, so they'd have the pleasure of ripping it off me. It was horrible. And after that night, since term started, I've been coming here to relieve myself of the feelings bottled up inside me. Father's trainings still went on, every night before I came here, dragging me back to Malfoy Manor through Floo right after dinner every now and then, though a few nights ago he said he couldn't continue anymore, he had to sort out things with You-Know-Who, and would tell me when I was to have my initiation. I hate this life."

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Ah! Evil cliffie strikes again. ^^ Don't like them, eh? Then REVIEW! *grins*

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